Demonkin
by TanuKyle
Summary: The stronger the demon, the stronger the need for a mate; one who will complete them, take away the excess energy and prevent them from rampaging. Butwhat happens when your so-called mate…doesn’t even know you exist? Worse still, he doesn't know himself!
1. Chapter 1

His wings snap out, black and glossy, not a single feather out of place. Red eyes, as demonic as my own, spin with the sharingan. Growling loudly, I thrash, tails, teeth, claws all trying to remove the strange bindings. It does nothing however, even when I push my chakra into the bonds – a bad idea it turns out, as they tighten further, causing a pained howl. It takes me a second to realise it comes from my own throat.

And when I do, I snarl. The Raven demon is sneaking closer, no, that's the wrong word. Prowling, stalking, they would be more apt. Stalking his prey. I shiver angrily. I am noone's prey! But…I am powerless here, bound by strong threads of some chakra-reinforced substance, bound by the strength of the other's eyes, even though they cannot truly affect me. I, the kyuubi-kit, am immune to bloodline limits. My snarling does nothing, for I am unable to lace it with the power that would keep him away, unable to do anything against the Raven who had once been my brother.

He trails a claw down the side of my face, tearing the skin. My eyes narrow slightly, but I allow him no noise, no wince, no nothing. I know from previous experiences it will only make it hurt more later. My face is still contorted into a snarl, and unable to resist, I snap at his slender fingers. He chuckles. "Oh Naru. Still feisty?" He leans in, breathing his sweet carrion-scented breath over me. Instinctively, I shudder. "Let me fix that." He plunges his hand into my back, laced with electricity, chidori. I scream. I might be able to push past the ripping of my cheek, but this is agony incarnate – each nerve ending overloaded as the skin is obliterated, then electricity pushed down it. The worst pain, however, comes when he removes his hand. Arching my back, I let out another scream, soundless this time, body in too deep to make any outward expression.

Crack. My head slams back against the floor, as I sob, my healed back free of pain now, but the regeneration is excruciating. Sasuk-No. The raven smiles. I will not think of him as Sasuke any longer. This is no longer Sasuke. Sasuke was my brother. This thing, is a monstrosi-"Ngh!" I flinch, but this time not in pain. It's coming. No-nononononono, is all I have time to think before the heat takes me.

All demons have a mate. A true soul, bound to them. The problem is, the more powerful the demon, the stronger the need for that specific mate. Most demons never meet their mate. Most never need to – A partnership with another demon is enough for them, enough to take away the excess chakra, and stop this. Heat. In the human world, only females get it, and only animals. But then again..in this world, we can all bear children, and we all bear animal traits. Heat is what happens when a strong demon's mate is denied to them. And I am the epitome of strong.

The Kyuubi. The nine-tails. The strongest breed of demon in the whole Nether. And I am the last one. My chakra brims with power, and I long for my mate. My heat is encompassing, overwhelming, as the excess chakra starts to damage my system, the heat takes over, begging someone to take me, to make me come, to pound me into the ground and meld their chakra with mine, so that I don't die and take the last of the Kyuubi with me. For that is what it will come to, if I do not find my mate. I will die. But right now, it is the furthest thing from my mind. Right now my mind is not my own, twisted, contorted by desire, by need, by want.

And whilst the little bit of me screams no, whilst it begs my chakra to stop, to remember this is the Raven, the one we've been fighting to escape for so long..it doesn't listen. And I am overwhelmed.

And suddenly I am panting and squirming, begging the Raven, begging him to take me. "N-nah!" As he pressed a cold hand against my now feverish back, I press into it, desperately, needily. My eyes, no longer red, are blue, glossed over by lust. Blue..the colour that should be only reserved for my mate to see. His eyes however, still spin red. He chuckles. "Why Naru-kun…eager?" Usually I would scowl, snarl, snap at that nickname, tear into his flesh, crunch his spine beneath my teeth until the bitter fluid spilled across my tongue. But now it only makes me hotter, the chakra coils are burning, burning! I wriggle as much as I can against the bonds, that bind ankle to thigh, arms behind back, and that collar round my neck to the complicated knots. Moaning as the hand follows my spine, hands clenching as the thin fingers, spindly almost, trail over the immobilized digits.

I want to say stop teasing. I want to shout fuck off. But all I can do is make incoherent noises and squirm under my most hated one's touch. Tears flow down my cheeks. I want my mate! I want him! I want him! And my vision blurs, blackens, I relax. This is the blessing. When heat comes, I don't have to feel Raven, not like the other times he takes me. Forcefully. Bloody. Unwillingly. I feel my mate. Spindly, callused fingers, rough and hurting, change to soft caresses from slender hands. Waxy flesh goes to healthy, pale but warm. And the beat of ebony wings changes to a swish of a fluffy tail. I squirm, and I hear a chuckle, but the chakra of mine shifts it from a insane laugh to a compassionate giggle, before the first one even registers.

I want to see you! I cry out, but not verbally. I cry out with my soul. Yes, Demons have souls. Demons…so misunderstood. Yes, there are evil ones among us. But there are good ones too. It's like this. Humanity. The middle ground. Gypsies, the descendants of angels, who were the emotionless beings. And demons..the epitome of emotion. But when you have so much emotion…it turns sour. Love, lust, jealously, all muddled into a big ball labelled hatred. Like Sas-Raven. And as each thrust pounds into me, not caring for my own pleasure, nor my shaft being rubbed painfully against the floor, my own emotions run riot. Loneliness. Pain. Desire.

I cry freely. I want him! I want him! Yet all that comes out of my mouth is incoherency, and as the blessed release comes, as my chakra is stolen, not absorbed, as it is ripped away from me, I scream, and the illusion of my mate is broken. Yet again, I see nothing of him, save for a flash of sandy golden fur. As Raven pulls out of my bloodied hole, as he carves into my flesh with those claws, as he walks away, I return. My eyes return to crimson. The anger returns to my soul. I thrash.

I carve patterns in the floor with my elongated canines. I carve words into Raven's soul with insults and hatred. He simply laughs and leaves.

I am angry…so angry. I thrash.

Wait.

…..I thrash?

Where have the bonds gone!?

Elation.

Freedom.

Running.

Tails spread out behind me, ears flat against my head. Orange fur is bloodstained, matted, grubby from months of imprisonment. Only one thought races through my head.

'MATE.'

I am running, and running. I don't know how long I've been running for. But suddenly I am running no longer. I am falling. And my tails! No, my tails! Come back! My ears! They are dissipating, fading, and I wonder; where am I, where is this?

Where is my mate?


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Don't worry! The pairing is Gaara and Naruto, but Neji, for the moment, will play an important role. So no flaming! AND NO. This is NOT you were the last two of your species, you'd be close too. *shudders* And OMG – two updates within a few days? O-o**

-------

Colourless eyes snap open. I breathe out. "Hinata!" She too, awakes, equally clear eyes clouded with worry. "I feel it!" We can both feel it. A demon, crossing the borders to the mortal world. We, the last defenders, cannot allow it. We push back, but it is futile. The demon is almost through, and nothing can stop him. Hinata pauses, and I look towards her.

"N-Neji." Her voice is stuttering, a nervous habit I thought she had broken millennia ago.  
"Neji! He's not doing this!"

And then I flinch. I realise this too. The demon isn't pushing through to kill people. Isn't pushing through on a conscious desire. He is being led here, drawn here. Which means only one thing – we've missed one. Somewhere ,on this earth, is a demon. And we missed him. We stand, almost united in panic. Even with years of disuse, our celestial bloodline keeps our bodies strong. Momentarily, I study my form. It is toned, pale, and black hair pools at my naked waist – there is no use for clothing in stasis. My sister too stands naked, her body as toned as my own. We are fighters.

She to the left, I to the right. We go through the processes, the closets, the preparation that will allow us to step into the human world again. We are clothed traditionally, but modern enough so we do not stand out. Our hair is cut – kept long, but made sure to be smooth instead of ragged, unkempt. The only thing that doesn't change is our eyes, pale, pupilless orbs giving the appearance of blindness, when in fact it is the opposite – we see too much. We see far too much.

Hinata visited a monument once. A monument to a war. She saw it all. Every ghost, every unsettled boy, every frightened man. We stay away from them now. We can sense spiritual hotspots, sense the frightened, confused emotions. So unless we know we can help them, or the chakra level is beginning to become dangerous or visible, we stay away. It hurts too much.

We started off as emotionless beings. But over time, as the bloodline diluted, more and more emotion crept upon us. And we discovered pain, and hurt. We discovered joy, and love. But to those who have never felt, the light is so much more acute. And so we wrap ourselves up in uncaring demeanors. We have to. Otherwise this would be painful.

It would be painful to look upon the demon, who looks so much like an abused child, whose posture is pained and protective. Whose golden hair is matted, bloodstained. Meagre clothes – a simple pair of neon-oranges shorts, are tattered, torn. He looks so lost. He looks so much like Minato. But I will not allow this to distract me. Hinata's eyes wobble – she too has seen the resemblance to Minato. But this will not be allowed.

I take her hand, and I look into her eyes. There is no verbal communication, not even a twitch of the face. But I let my eyes be calm, and with a deep, shuddering breath, she calms her own stormy pools. The deadly heir to the Hyuuga, the last of the angelic bloodline, is back. The emotionless, the strong.

It has always been her weakness. The angelic blood runs particularly strong in her, but for some reason, so do her emotions. It is a strange thing, a contradiction in itself. But now, she is ruthless, and so am I, as we approach the boy. He looks up, and we pause, shocked – where are the crimson eyes? He should have crimson eyes! Instead, we have ourselves looking at the most beautiful blue eyes. Lighter than sapphire, but just as bright. And they ache with pain.

"shu?" A question, an answer, a loss, all in just one word of then, the expected reaction as he senses our presence, our celestial aura. He hisses, snarls, backs up. We step forward, he steps back. There is no escape. He has landed in an alley. And he has no demonic powers here, save for strong chakra, and what demon knows how to use that. None, save the most powerful, the Tailed-Beasts. And we could sense that. This boy…no, this demon. He senses almost like a normal being. Very, very odd.

Hinata has paused, the question clear in her movements. Is this him? Is this truly a demon? A loud snarl ripped through our thoughts, and we lunge. The creature, for this is not a boy, it is a demon, doesn't move. He sits there, just sits there, shocked and afraid. This is not typical demon behaviour. Usually they would attack. But he only looks afraid, so afraid and hurt. But we cannot pause. We must continue. We must be logical. We must be emotionless. It is our destiny.

But even destiny has its faults. The demon moves. Turns, runs, four-legged, darting through the streets of Suna, a low, fearful keening sound echoing from his, no, its throat. We chase, running. But then, another unexpected turn. The Kazekage has turned out, to see what this ruckus, this screaming is, in his perfect city. And the demon stops.

That mournful cry. "Shuu?" The blue eyes light up. He launches himself at the Kazekage. The other looks unconcerned. His sand will protect him, as it always has. So image his, and our shock, when it does nothing of the sort, when the little demon paws at the Kazekage's shirt, crying and weeping. "Shu! Shuuuu!" The leader of the whole village grasps his head, grasps the 'ai' marking on his forehead, and looks at the little demon, confusion rampant in those expressionless eyes.

We move. Silently, expertly, we make our way to the Kazekage. We bow. "Allow us to ….remove him." I speak, but it is Hinata who bows, making the gesture. The little demon clings on tighter, again with the nonsense words. "Shuu! Shuuuuu!" His face is rife with fear, but fear of what? Fear of the Kazekage leaving him? That's ridiculous. The Kazekage could never keep him!

A small cough draws our attention from our demon. Temari, the Kage's adviser. Gaara, the Kage himself, seems speechless. Nobody has ever touched him. Nobody has ever been able to touch him, and out of the blue, this kid has come, launched himself at him, dirty, afraid, and the sand has done nothing. He seems shocked, stunned.

And then, as Temari nods, and we move forward, his arms reflexively close around the blond, and a shield of sand pulls up. Temari is shocked, Gaara is shocked, we are shocked. The only one who is not shocked is the little demon. He clings tighter to the shirt, diminutive against the other man. He leans up, rubbing his cheek against the others sand-encased skin. He purrs.

The last thing I notice before Hinata drags me away, is that Gaara's arms still encircle the injured blond boy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning: Long chapter. And I've almost never written Gaara before – this is my first attempt at my OTP. So please, be forgiving, and constructive crit. Is extreeeemely appreciated.**

"shuu! Shuuu!" A large cry, seemingly directed at me, breaks me out of my deliberating. A boy. Scruffy, dirty, presumably a street rat. But what is he doing here? We only reformed the orphanages last month, and we had sent people to clear up the streets, to send boys like him to the orphanages. And he looks awful. I don't invest any emotion in it. It is simply an observation. His hair is wild, matted, and I can see blood on it. Twin sets of three scars run down his cheeks, almost like whiskers. He is covered in dirt and blood. And his eyes, so strange. They light up with joy to see me. Why? I am feared, respected at best. But this child, this innocent, he looks almost..happy?

As he throws himself at me, a momentary pang of pseudo-guilt runs through me. I don't actually feel it, but I know I should feel guilty that my sand is about to hurt a child. Then, a true emotion runs through me. The first in a long time. Surprise. Instead of the 'oof' or 'ow' or scream I expected, there is a giggle, and a warmth pressed against me I can feel even through the sand armor. And something else. A pang, a strike, something that makes me clutch at the marking on my forehead and almost double over. This feels strange. This feels strange. Temari looks at me, and I recognize worry in her gaze. But I am too wrapped up in this mental barrage. I look at the boy, so confused. What is this? What's happening?

I almost don't notice the other voice. Cold, calculating. But I do notice the tightened grip on my shirt, the fear in the boy's eyes. I am frozen, unable to move, to say, to do anything, as some strange effect runs through me. It feels like my chakra is being unsettled, changed. It feels like my head is being split apart by that scar on my forehead. I catch movement out of the corner of my eye, Temari nodding, and the two cold beings step forward, blinded eyes – but this can't be so, and I correct myself – seemingly blinded eyes, fixtated on the child, killing intent obvious.

Then I do something completely unexpected, even to myself. Some instinct I didn't even know I had snaps forth, and my arms close around the child, and a sand shield rumbles into existence, the grains blocking the pair from closing in on us. And in that moment, Temari's shocked expression tells me all I need to know. That is the childs cheek rubbing happily against the rough sand exterior of my own. And that is indeed a purr coming from him. And, in the small cocoon of sand that has enveloped me, the child and Temari, my lips have indeed curved upwards for the first time in years.

As the strong chakra presence of the two beings moves away, the shield drops, and I catch the horror-filled glance of the male as he looks back, seeing my arms encircle the child. And in that moment, my hatred spikes, and I want to kill, I want to kill. The child giggles however, and it is dissipated. He's…giggling? Why? Surely he can feel my killing intent? Oh. Maybe he's retarded. Maybe that's why he called me in nonsense, maybe that's why he's not afraid!

A crushing sense of disappointment runs over me, the urge to slaughter assuaged. No…I wanted him to want me, to need me, not to be retarded, not to be- a small hand, slender and tanned, presses itself against my face. And he smiles. Kami, that smile. It's as if all the emotion in the world is presented in that face. My own face stays stoic, but I wonder. What is this? He speaks again. "Shuu." That smile. That heartbreaking smile, and it's for me. I tuck the boy into my arms. It's only then I realise. He's not a boy – he's small yes, and the innocence he exudes along with his previous helplessness added to the illusion, but looking at his body, he is probably around the same age as me. If horribly skinny, injured and most likely weak.

I only ever have contempt for weakness. So why does this boy, no, this man, why does he make me feel! Abruptly, I release my arms. The teen drops, and I catch myself holding my breath – to no end, as he lands neatly on his feet. Grinning that grin again – I can see that being a permanently annoying fixture, he pads after me as I head back to the Kage's offices. And once again, I catch myself – why am I thinking this teen will be a more permanent part of my life?

"Gaara?" Temari enquires cautiously, unspoken questions clear in her voice. But it's not the question I expect that comes out of her mouth. "Would you like me to call a doctor?" I blink, the everpresent scowl yet again finding my face, and turn to her to ask why she thinks the kid'd need one, when I find that we are at the Kage's offies…and the little teen is being carried by Temari, seemingly asleep, but he is shivering wildly, a fever burning through him, and by the looks of Temari pouring chakra into her hands, he is getting hot to a point where it would burn someone.

I cannot help the panic that runs through me. I snatch the boy from her. The sand on my hands vibrates softly, a minute vibration that only I could feel. The boy must be dying, he's that hot. Temari's face would be comical, if I were my brother. I'm sure he would have killed for a camera at that moment. But all I can think of is the boys face, writhing in pain. And then I see it – a chakra seal, like the one on my back, flashing hard on his stomach. Something tells me to leave the inner seal alone, because the dark aura pulsing out of that thing is almost palpable.

But the outer seal…the skin is red and puffy around it. I can see irritated veins. It's poisoning him. Panicking, I draw chakra into my hand. I know seals, and this five-point is easily removed. Taking a clammy, boiling hand in my own, I have the urge to whisper an apology for the hurt. But I resist. I am the Kage. I have no need to apologise to street rats. I slam the hand into his gut. The male howls, an animalistic sound rife with pain.

The seal is gone, and the poison fading, but he'll have nasty bruises for a while. Gathering him into my arms – he is still too hot for Temari, and that is the only reason, I carry him to my room. Temari, wisely, says nothing. I lay the boy on my unused bed, tucking him in. As I move away, a hand grasps my shirt, which is already wrinkled from earlier graspings. "Shuuu." It seems to be the only word he can say.

But maybe he's just hurt. Maybe Shuu is his mother or something. A momentary pang, but of anger. Why. Why. I tear away, going to train. A harsh word is whispered to Temari, who I know is outside the door. "Watch."

---

"Nng. Ugh! Argh!" The sounds of ninja training is almost a relief. It's something I'm used to, something that is not as unfamiliar as the rest of the day. The shouts, the cries as someone hits a little too hard…all of this is perfectly normal. As is the silence that settles over the battleground as I arrive. Nobody wants to train with me. Nobody ever wants to train with me. And the subdued anger, the sudden lack of emotion, is almost a relief from today, where that strangeness- I cut myself off, shoving the feeling down.

"Kazekage-sama…" The murmurs and bows follow my wake as I head to the large boulders I like to train by. My taijutsu skills are lacking. There's no need for them, really. The sand has always protected me. Will always protect me.

Chakra-reinforced limbs smack into the boulders, crumbling, crunching. Just enough chakra to keep myself from getting hurt, but enough also so the limbs will strengthen. Again, and again, and again. 'til everything comes out. Until I can forget about that boy.

--

A voice distracts me. "Gaara!" I turn, intent on attacking this person, when I realise it is not coming from outside. It is coming from the communication stone that Temari, Kankuro and I each have a piece of. It is Temari's voice. "Gaara!" I touch the stone, replying. "Yes?" My voice is icy, cold. "I think you should come back. It's that kid!"

I refuse to let that panic free. "What about him?" Temari's voice, however, is full of panic. "It's his chakra!" Chakra? How strange. But surely the Jounin could sense i-except I put wards on my room so nobody could sense chakra inside it. "I'm coming." Still icy, I tell myself. Not terse. Not worried.

The sand takes me, transporting me to my room. The sight that meets me would be comical, if I felt that emotion. Temari is pressed up against the wall, fan out. All for a child? I turn my eyes onto him, and uncontrollably, I flinch. He is curled up in a ball on my bed. Visible chakra surrounds him, angry, red. And he is calling out: "Shuu! Shuuuu!" And suddenly I am angry too. Why! Why is he calling out for someone else! I saved him, didn't I? He was happy to see me!

I step forward, chakra flaring, and the blue-eyed boy looks up. And his chakra drops, and again, he launches himself at me, arms wide, smile wide. Why? Why does he have such an effect on me? I've never seen him before, but as his soft, scarred cheek rubs against mine and he purrs, I find myself holding him, patting his hair gently. I regret the last movement immediately, as dried blood comes off on my armoured hand. The disgust must show on my face, as Temari motions to the bathroom. I nod, arms still holding the boy as I move him to the bathroom, intent on cutting the tangled mop of hair that must reach mid waist.

I dump him unceremoniously in a bath that Temari must have filled earlier. He flinches, going still immediately, eyes wide in fear. Shit. I never considered the reason he was so dirty was because he didn't like the water. Suddenly, fully-clothed, I am in there with him, stroking his hair. "It's okay. I won't let you drown, I promise. But you need to get clean." Temari is shocked. Not just at the tenderness behind my words, but at the words themselves – I haven't spoken that much since the last diplomatic meeting with Konoha.

What was it about this boy? Why did I feel the need to protect him? Why? Why am I pulling the plug so the water level drops so he'll feel more secure. Why am I being gentle as I rub the sponge over his body, stopping as he flinches when I try and rub it over the bruised stomach and throbbing seal, or the reddened skin of his lower back, that looks like it's been burned, freshly healed. So I avoid those areas, instead intent on cleaning off that skinny torso, ribs prominent, and those hipbones are criminally sharp.

"It looks like someone's been abusing him."

Temari's voice whispers through the communication stone, presumably so the boy won't hear. And it's true. It does. Bruises litter him, not just the ones that I inflicted removing the seal. No scars other than the ones on his face, oddly, but there are tender patches of raw skin almost everywhere. And the blood and dirt caking the stick-thin body are staining the water brown. And yet…I cannot stop cleaning the boy.

I'm doing his hair now, and I motion for Temari to pass me the scissors. "I need to cut your hair, okay?" the blond-haired boy nods. His eyes, bright as they may be, seem to lack something. Maybe I was correct with my earlier assumption…maybe he is retarded. I gather the hair at the back of his neck, like a ponytail, then simply snip, passing the hair to Temari, who, scowling slightly, chucks it in the bin.

I warn the boy softly about the showerhead I turn on, before placing it on a soft spray, and the poofy mass of hair quietens down, turning darker in the water, but two odd protrusions are either side of his head. I press at them, expecting them to be a tangle, and they move, the boy giggles. I flinch. Ohgod, he has some kind of parasite in his hair. And I'm in the water with him. Panic momentarily consumes me, before the boy lifts his hands, spreading the hair to reveal two…ears? Yes, two fluffy, orange-hued ears, that resemble nothing I have ever seen before. Temari has the audacity to yelp. I have the decency to stop, touching them gently. The boy purrs loudly, rubbing his head back against my hand.

…who is he? What is he? And what the hell is this feeling in my chest?!

Shoving all that away for now, I continue to wash and cut his hair. He ends up with a spiky mess, not dissimilair to my own, save for the colour and length, which I purposely left long to cover those ears. Not however, that that seems to have worked, because he twitches them and the hair falls away.

We are done. Heaving myself, heavy with wet clothing, and the boy, who is far too light, out of the bath, I motion for my sister to pass us towels. She seems to have regained her composure, as she has pre-empted this, wrapping me immediately in a large, fluffy monstrosity. She heads towards the boy, but he snarls, and she rolls her eyes, chucking it at me.

"Looks like someone's got a favourite." I say nothing, wrapping the boy up skilfully, so he cannot move. He frowns, and yawns, revealing sharp teeth. Temari frowns.

"Gaara….what is he?" I shake my head. I have no idea.

--

I find myself awake again. But instead of sitting on a rooftop, I find myself inside, watching the boy sleep peacefully. What is he…I mull the question over. Animalistic ears. Sharp teeth. Chakra that he seems to be able to control – chakra itself is rare enough, but to be able to control it with seemingly no training? Very odd. I find myself watching him. I find myself enamoured by the child.

Imagine my surprise in the morning, when he wakes up, and his blue eyes are no longer childish, but fully aware, more than that…the happiness is still there, but a darkness too.

"Good morning Shuu." Kami, that smile. But worse…he seems to expect that nonsense word, which I am now realising is a name, to mean something to me.

"Gaara. My name is Gaara."

The expression of shock on his face is almost worth the pain I can see too.

Almost.


End file.
